With her long lashes
partly lowered, she watched me awhile, then spoke; and her voice was
music which seemed to mock me; every inflection of that elusive accent
reopened, lancet-like, the ancient wound.
"Why do you look at me so?" she said, almost in a whisper. "By what
right do you reproach me?--Have you ever offered me friendship, that I
should repay you with friendship? When first you came to the house
where I was, by the river--came to save some one from" (there was the
familiar hesitation which always preceded the name of Fu-Manchu)
"from--_him_, you treated me as your enemy, although--I would have
been your friend...."
There was appeal in the soft voice, but I laughed mockingly, and threw
myself back upon the divan. Karamaneh stretched out her hands toward
me, and I shall never forget the expression which flashed into those
glorious eyes; but, seeing me intolerant of her appeal, she drew back
and quickly turned her head aside. Even in this hour of extremity, of
impotent wrath, I could find no contempt in my heart for her feeble
hypocrisy; with all the old wonder I watched that exquisite profile,
and Karamaneh's very deceitfulness was a salve--for had she not cared
she would not have attempted it!
Suddenly she stood up, taking the keys in her hands, and approached
me.
"Not by word, nor by look," she said quietly, "have you asked for my
friendship, but because I cannot bear you to think of me as you do, I
will prove that I am not the hypocrite and the liar you think me.
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